


The Unforgettable Fire

by Denegressi



Series: The Unforgettable Fire [1]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Fluff and Angst, IdontknowwhyIdothis, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-05 06:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14038626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denegressi/pseuds/Denegressi
Summary: Twelve years after "the summer", Elio suffers a major loss - his father. He tries to support his mother while taking care of his five year old daughter at the same time. It's in a time of grief and sadness that a man from his past comes back into his life.Is there any hope?(Please read the notes)





	1. Walk till you run and don't look back

**Author's Note:**

> So, here's the beginning of a 5 or 6 part fic. It's sad, I'm warning you! And I'm not sure it's even a tiny bit good, but it didn't get out of my head so I had to write it.
> 
> The title is from a U2 song with the same name, as well as the titles of all chapters.
> 
> Also, I have something to ask if anyone's interested, I would love to have a BETA READER because english is not my first language and I'm sure I make a lot of mistakes... So... if there's anyone out there :)

The news were still too fresh for me to be able to deal with… Even though I was there with him when he took his last breath, the fact that my father was no longer among us didn’t seem real to me. I held my mother as she cried on my neck, her hands clasping my shirt and my hair as tightly as possible and it still didn’t seem real.

 

When we left the hospital I offered to call our closest family members, so she could rest. She kept saying that she wouldn’t be able to sleep so Mafalda gave her some pills with a hot teacup.

 

I called my aunts and then Marzia; I knew speaking to her could be helpful somehow. She has been my oldest friend, and the one person I know I can always rely on.

 

 _Pour la vie_.

 

I’ve never known how she’s always up with me, with my bullshit and my very unique dramas for so many years.

 

“I’ll be there tomorrow as soon as I can, ok?”

 

“There’s no need to rush… The funeral is only in two days, so…”

 

“You need me, baby.”

 

I sighed and pressed my index finger and thumb against my eyes until I could see stars. “I do… but you have a husband and a son and I don’t want you disappearing on them on my behalf.”

 

“They will understand; that’s the last thing you need to worry about. Is Gio with you?”

 

“Of course…”

 

Gio… Giovanna, my five-year-old daughter, who was already sleeping soundly on my bed.

 

“How did she take it?”

 

“Better than anybody else, I guess? The wonders of being a five year old… She’s pretty content that her _nonnuccio_ is now a star in the sky. Though I guess that she hasn’t grasped the fact that she won’t see him again…”

 

“I see… Well, I need to go, I’m sorry, but I’ll be with you tomorrow morning, ok? Will you get some sleep? Please?”

 

I smiled and assured her that I would do my best. We said our goodbyes and hang up. Hoping the wooden floor wouldn’t crack under my feet, I made my way to the bed and kissed Gio’s soft curls.

 

“What would I do without you?” I whispered. My parents used to say that she was the happiest _accident_ in history. To call someone an accident could seem rude, but the endearing way they said it left no doubts – they were the proudest grandparents. Gio was unplanned and unexpected, but once she got into our lives – into _my_ life – she became the very centre of it, the sun to my long night.

 

I got out of my room checked my mother, sighing in relief when I saw her sleeping peacefully. Whatever Mafalda gave her seemed to be working. I closed the door as slowly as I could and made my way outside for a smoke. I still hadn’t been able to cry… What the hell was wrong with me?

 

On top of it all, I’ve never been a man of no tears. Quite the opposite actually… I’ve never been ashamed to cry, whether it was from sadness, frustration or happiness. So, why couldn’t I cry for my father? Marzia would say I was still in shock and maybe that was it… I hoped so anyway.

 

I started walking along my mother’s orchard; sadly, since we were in mid October, there we no fruits – no apricots, no pomegranate… The trees seemed to be absent of life, as if they were also mourning their master. The night was casting a black shadow on them, which added even more to the effect.

 

It didn’t take long for me to return to the house, autumn nights were chilly in northern Italy and I was only wearing a long sleeved shit.

 

I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep straight away though…

 

Before I realised I was inside my father’s studio. Taking a deep breath I let myself be surrendered by his aura that was ever so present in that particular room. My mind started drifting off to a particular summer, twelve years ago. A summer that changed me in so many ways. A summer that changed my views on friendship, brotherhood and love. Suddenly I could see and feel not only my father but Oliver there with him.

 

Oliver…

 

 _Elio_.

 

I needed to tell him about my father… I knew they still talked and it would be unfair for him to find out months from now. I haven’t heard his voice in ten years though… It had been my choice. Oliver wanted to keep in touch but I got to a point where I couldn’t stand to just talk to him and not _have_ him. I didn’t know how he did it, if it was _easy_ for him, but for me it was torture. For a while I waited… Like a lovesick fool, sometimes I sat in our balcony at night, hoping that he would miraculously be back. As if life was some sort of fairy tale.

 

After he had his first child I decided that it was better to cut all strings. It hurt too much to think about it and I needed distance for my mental health. Oliver was starting a family and I didn’t want to be the person that wishes a man would desert his child to come live with me. I wouldn’t be able to cope and live with that guilt, anyway… So, when he called to say he was going to be a father I knew I had to quit. I didn’t throw a fit or anything, I just told him calmly that it was for the best that we simply stopped any kind of communication, because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to move on.

 

And then I cried.

 

Deep down I knew that not talking to him wouldn’t prevent me from thinking about him, but I had to try something. _Anything_.

 

At the time I tried to explain all of that to my parents and they understood my reasons. When Oliver visited the villa with his family four and seven years after that I made sure I wasn’t there. Of course he knew abut Giovanna, I told my father it would be silly to keep it from him, but he didn’t get to meet her either. I had no idea what had been his reaction either.

 

So, back on that terrible day my father passed, I had the difficult task of calling him after so many _ages_ of no contact and explain what had happened.

 

I found his number easily but I stalled for longer than I dare to admit… Almost an hour passed until I summed up the courage to pick up the telephone and just call him.

 

“Hello?”

 

That voice definitely didn’t belong to Oliver…

 

“Hello… hum… Is it possible to speak to Oliver?

 

“Oliver? Maybe you got the wrong number sir…”

 

I checked my father’s contacts list and I was pretty sure that was the number I dialled. “That’s weird…”

 

“Oh wait! Oliver, of course. They moved out. The family, I mean. I bought this house with my wife, but I’m pretty sure I have his new contact. Just a second!”

 

I sighed. That meant I had to make yet another call…

 

Fifteen minutes later I was dialling the new number and, this time, a much more familiar voice answered. I couldn’t speak…

 

“Is this a joke?” He asked after a while.

 

“Oliver…”

 

It was his time to go numb.

 

“Elio… What the… Is this really you…” He stuttered. Good.

 

“Yes, it’s me… Even though I wished I was calling to say something positive for once.” From the other side of the line, I could inly hear nervous breaths, as if he couldn’t believe he was talking to me and at the same time he was sure some terrible news were on its way… “It’s my father, he… died this afternoon…”

 

Silence. More breathing and gasps.

 

“I’m so sorry, Elio…”

 

“I thought you had the right to know from my mouth. He loved you very much.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“He had a heart attack one month ago, but he recovered. The second time, it didn’t go on so well…”

 

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

 

“I-what?”

 

“I need to pay my respects… I mean, Samuel Perlman was one of the most influential people in my life. Not only professional but personal too. Maybe more so than my own father, so…”

 

I closed my eyes and bit hard on my lower lip. Of course I couldn’t tell him not to come, that would be highly unfair.

 

“I understand.” I simply said.

 

“You’re ok with that?”

 

“I have to be.”

 

Silence again.

 

“I didn’t phrase that right,” I said after a moment. “You have every right to be here, and I’m sure my mother will be glad and will appreciate your effort and your support. On my part, it’s…” how could I put it into words?

 

“I know, Elio.”

 

Of course you do.

“But come…” I gulped. “Tell me when you know what time you arrive. The number is still the same, yours changed though, I was lucky that the guy who lives at your old house still had your number.”

 

“Yeah, well… I was going to call your father but _stuff_ got in the way… I’m actually in the middle of quite an unpleasant divorce process so…”

 

 _Divorce_?

 

“I-I’m sorry to hear that.”

 

“Don’t be… And don’t worry about picking me up, or anything, I’ll be there the day after tomorrow, probably mid morning.” I nodded, as if he could see me. “I’m so sorry…”

 

After we hung up, I must have stayed about half an hour in the same position - paralysed.

 

Finally, the tears came full force.


	2. Walk on by, walk on through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few points to be aware before reading this chapter:
> 
> 1\. So, I tried to do a little research on Jewish traditions for this chapter in order not to be completely unrealistic but I'm sure some things are not quite right. Anyway, I mixed a bit what I read with what is tradition in Southern Europe. Not sure if anyone is familiar with it, but funerals and mourning are quite a long process here, even though this doesn't seems to be the case for jews. A "vigillia" is when family and friends gather around the coffin for prayers and to pay their respects. I tried not to get into too much detail in order not to offend anyone though and also because it's not the point of the story. 
> 
> 2\. There are some French and Italian sentences, I'm quite confident with the French but if there's anything wrong with the Italian ones do not hesitate to tell me :)
> 
> 3\. amoamasamat was so kind to beta this chapter for me, so thank you very much again!
> 
> 4\. I hope you enjoy! Please tell me what you think :)

“ _Tia Marzia_!” (Aunt Marzia!)

 

“ _Ciao, angelo mio!_ ” (Hello, my angel!)

 

Marzia opened her arms to my daughter and for about ten minutes they talked about how much they missed each other and they hugged and played around. Gio asked if Francesco, Marzia’s son, was with her and was disappointed to find out he stayed back in Milan.

 

I couldn’t blame Marzia, funerals are not for kids…

 

In fact, I asked her to stay home with Gio during the following day, because I didn’t want her anywhere near a funeral. It was too morbid for a child and I didn’t want her to associate that coffin with the image she had of her grandfather.

 

“ _Ora il Nonno è una stella,_ did you know that?” (Grandfather is a star now)

 

Marzia smiled, caressing her cheek.

 

“I know, sweetheart. He’ll be looking at you every night.”

 

Hand in hand, they made their way towards me, “ _però la Nonna è molto triste_ …” (but grandmother is very sad) Gio continued in a low voice and then she whispered something only to Marzia and I knew it was about me… Papà is very sad as well, but he’s trying to hide it from me. I could almost bet it was something along these lines.

 

When they reached me, Gio let go of Marzia’s hand to wrap her arms around my waist. “I’m hungry, Papà.”

 

“Of course you are, it’s time to have lunch… First I have to go and get your _Nonna_ though, she must be hungry too. You stay with Marzia and Mafalda, will you?”

 

She nodded and I leaned down to kiss her head before I made my way to the car and drove to Crema.

 

My mother was with relatives and she seemed to be hanging on. She smiled when she saw me and extended her hand. As I approached her, I took her into my arms and kissed her temple.

 

Jewish _vigillias_ were not as extravagant and usually not as long as Catholic ones. In fact, our religion says the body should be buried on the day of the death, but for us that was never really a possibility. My father had friends and relatives coming from everywhere and it would be unfair if they arrived and he was already buried. I’ve always appreciated life more, but I also understood that this sort of goodbye was fundamental for many people.

 

The coffin was simple, with no ornaments, as our religion demands, only a golden Star of David on the top lid. Since there was no synagogue nearby, the Catholic church of Crema offered their chapel for the rituals. It was a nice gesture and I’m sure not all churches would accept this, especially in Italy, where Catholicism is ever so strong.

 

“Mafalda is preparing lunch. Marzia is at the villa already, I asked her to stay with Gio.”

 

My mother nodded and looked at my father’s coffin one more time _,_ which immediately brought tears to her eyes. She whispered something inaudible, and turned around, putting an arm around my waist as we made our way to the car.

 

“ _Gio va toujours bien_?” (Is Gio still alright ? )

 

“Oui, elle va bien maman, t’inquiète pas… (Yes, she is, don’t worry) How are _you_? What can I do to make it easier for you?” When we reached the car I turned her around in my arms so I could really look into her eyes.

 

“Elio… you can’t make it easier…” She smiled and caressed my cheek. “We have to go through this, it’s not supposed to be _easy_.”

 

Somehow those words reminded me of another conversation, many years ago when, like yesterday, I lost a part of me. Not a father, but another piece of my heart nonetheless.

 

“I called Oliver last night… I thought he deserved to know. He’s on his way.” I said the moment we sat in the car. My mother looked at me piercingly and I could feel her concern. “I’m alright.”

 

We didn’t say another word until we reached the villa.

 

*

 

I spent most of the afternoon at the _vigillia_ with my mother and I felt numb throughout most of it. The understanding I had before was vanishing. I’ve never liked this southern European costum... What was the point? I kept asking myself. It was quite morbid and honestly, respect is something that should be paid when one is alive. I’ve never really understood the goal of these kinds of traditions. Anyway, we had to go through with it…

 

When we returned home for dinner, Gio was watching cartoons with Marzia, snuggled up to her on the couch. They looked adorable and in that moment, due my distressed state of mind I wondered if Gio would ever hate me and blame for the fact that her mother never wanted to be a part of our lives. My mother seemed to have noticed this and tapped my arm as she shook her head.

 

“ _Non, mon fils_ …” (No, my son)

 

I took a deep breath and made my way t the couch, pretending I would jump on top of them.

 

“Papà! Don’t do it, you’re too heavy!”

 

“Are you by any chance implying that I’m fat, young lady?”

 

“No! You’re skinny, _Nonna_ always says you need to eat more, we can see your bones!”

 

Chuckling, I sat by her side instead, and pulled her into my lap while kissing all over her face.

 

I lived for those colourful giggles.

 

After dinner, I put Gio to sleep after reading a story about a yellow cat finding his way home. Luckily it had a happy ending.

 

Yawning, she placed her hand upon my cheek, her thumb caressing my cheekbone. She was an affectionate little girl; she had known nothing else her whole life…

 

“Don’t be sad, Papà… _Nonno_ is looking out for us.” I couldn’t stop it and I hated myself for it but my eyes immediately watered.

 

“I know, darling,” I kissed her hand and put it over her heart. “He’s not only a star, he’s in _here_ too, as long as you remember him.” She nodded still smiling.

 

It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep and I just sat there, looking at her peaceful rest and somehow envying it.

 

Marzia came into the room a few minutes later and squeezed my shoulder, tilting her head towards the balcony. I followed her outside and she immediately took me into her arms.

 

“I’ve waited all day to do that.”

 

“Thank you for being here. I feel that you’re my only true friend, you know?”

 

I felt her chuckle as she leaned back. “I’m not, but I’m certainly the best one you could ask for,” she winked. I picked up a cigarette from my back pocket as I let go of her. “Sandro called, he wanted to speak with you but I said you were with Gio, so we didn’t want to interrupt.”

 

Sandro is her husband. There was a time when he was madly jealous of me, but then it passed as soon as he realised I was more into men. Still, sometimes I don’t know how he puts up with our very _physical_ friendship. I believe he sees now that the affection and love we show towards each other has nothing sexual to it. Not for a very long time anyway and when it happened, it was years before Sandro even knew she existed.

 

“I did something…” I said as we watched Gio sleeping.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I called him.”

 

“You mean, Alfredo?” She asked, referring to my ex.

 

“No! Of course not…”

 

She furrowed her eyebrows in concentration and then realisation suddenly hit her.

 

“Oh… _him_ …”

 

“Oliver. I mean… someone needed to tell him, right? Might as well be me.” I shrugged. She nodded and put a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Then he just let it slip that he’s getting divorced and I can’t help thinking about it… I mean, my father just died and instead of mourning him the right way I’m thinking about Oliver finally being free.”

 

“Elio… there are no _right_ ways to mourn. And I think that… that this loss hasn’t really settled in your heart and mind yet. That is probably why you’re thinking about Oliver, you need a distraction.”

 

“I don’t think this is a distraction… I’m really sick, after all these years and I still react this way, how is it even possible?”

 

“You know I don’t understand. I could never understand what you both shared. I don’t even try to.”

 

“I should be more supportive of my mother. And my mind is elsewhere and I feel so terrible!” I sighed in exasperation.

 

“You _are_ here for her, I’m sure you held her hand throughout the whole _vigillia_ this afternoon. And I’m sure you’ll do the same tomorrow at the funeral. Stop beating yourself up…” She smiled and I shrugged. “When was the last time you spoke to Oliver before yesterday?”

 

“Ten years ago… When his first son was born. After that he only spoke to my parents… And when he came here with his family those two times I made sure that I was away with Gio.”

 

She nodded and grabbed my hands, caressing them with her thumbs.

 

“My father must be frowning down at me,” I chuckled, finally letting a couple of tears fall.

 

“Your father wasn’t one to frown…” She smiled, shedding a tear of her own.

 

For the next hour or so, until she went to one of the guest bedrooms, we talked about my father… His smile, his gentleness, his never failing advice… We cried and laughed at the many memories. It was the mourning I needed. When I got into bed and wrapped my arms around my daughter I fell asleep with a bittersweet smile.


	3. Face to face, in a dry and waterless place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No big notes this time, just a reminder that all chapter titles are from "The Unforgetable Fire" by U2 and another huge thank you to amoamasamat for taking the time to beta this story :)

The morning of the funeral I felt physically and emotionally drenched. I had barely slept, I had Oliver’s arrival on my mind and I still blamed myself that I was of no use regarding my mother’s suffering… Gio seemed to sense all this, so she stayed quiet most of the time and didn’t complain when I explained to her once again that she would have to stay home with Marzia.

 

The chapel was full and there were plenty of foreign people from universities around the world. This filled me with pride and put a lump in my throat at the same time. Everybody approached my mother and me to give their condolences and say how much they admired my father.

 

It was in the middle of all this that I set eyes on _him_. He had already spotted me and smiled as soon as he felt my gaze land on him. He carried a _bouquet_ of white roses and he seemed to be alone. I whispered to my mother that he was there and she looked at him fondly, signalling him to come closer.

 

My mother must have felt my nervousness so she grabbed my hand for a moment, squeezing it in reassurance before letting it go to grasp Oliver’s hands and embrace him right after. I could notice that he was whispering in her ear, as she nodded and sniffled. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I prepared myself for what was about to come. My palms were sweating and my heart was racing.

 

When he let go of my mother and turned to me, I felt my world shrink around us. Tentatively, shakily, he put a hand on my forearm but his eyes were full of emotion. It was as if he was afraid of my reaction, afraid that I wouldn’t let him hug me. But I was desperate for that hug that never came. As he opened his mouth to speak I beat him to it.

 

“Thank you. It would mean a lot to him to have you here.”

 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Elio,” he smiled.

 

“How long will you stay, darling?” My mother asked.

 

“One week, if that’s okay for you…”

 

_It’s not enough_ , I thought.

 

My mother consented, of course, adding that he could stay forever if he wanted to. He smiled before taking a step back so other people could approach us, but his eyes told me that we would speak later.

 

*

 

When we found ourselves back at the villa I felt lighter. It didn’t mean I missed my father any less or that his passing was any less painful, but at least the _shaking hands with strangers’_ part was over. Now it was time for us to recover as a family. Sometimes I could still hear his laughter as if it had been recorded by the walls to play to us whenever we needed.

 

Marzia kissed Oliver’s cheeks and welcomed him back. Gio stood behind her, looking up at him in wonder.

 

“Giovanna, this is Oliver. Papa’s old friend.” I said, extending my hand to her.

 

“But you never told me about him…” She frowned up at me as she took my hand and I smiled apologetically.

 

“Yeah, well… sorry about that.”

 

“You’re really tall,” she said looking up at him, “can you pick me up?” she gifted him with her precious bright smile that hardly anyone could resist, lifting her arms towards him. Not wanting to step on any boundaries, Oliver looked at me questioningly and I just shrugged.

 

“I’m not sure I’m strong enough but I’ll try!”

 

The rest is history…. Gio didn’t let go of Oliver until bedtime. I had no idea how he did it, maybe it was the experience he got from his own kids, but Gio was completely smitten with Oliver in a matter of minutes. Now, don’t get me wrong, she’s always been sociable, I’ve always taken her with me everywhere with zero problems and if she has to spend the night without me – with my parents or Marzia for example – she’s never been a kid to throw a fit over it. But he way she was immediately so taken by Oliver was a first. Marzia was looking at me with a smirk, as if she was inside my mind. I just shrugged it off.

 

“Can Oliver tell me a bedtime story tonight?”

 

“You’re already ditching me?!” I said in mock outrageousness.

 

“ _No, Papa, mai (_ never), but he’s my new friend! You can be there too, Oliver can tell a story to us both!” Her energy was contagious so it broke my heart to decline her proposition, but I had to…

 

“Sweetie,” I started getting down on my knees to look at her straight in the eyes, “Oliver is tired, he was on an airplane for more than 10 hours, can you imagine that?” She looked down, her lower lip sticking out. “Tomorrow you can play with him, I promise. But for now you need to let him rest.”

 

“ _Va bene, Papa._ ”

 

I smiled and kissed her temple.

 

“You can still give me a goodnight hug and kiss!” Oliver said. Giggling she did just that before darting up to my room. Shaking my head I followed her up the stairs.

 

“Young lady, you do understand that sleeping with me these past nights in an exception, right?” She nodded as she chose a book from my shelf. “Giovanna, are you listening to me?”

 

“ _Si Papá, ma posso dormire con te? Ancora una volta? Per favore_?” (Yes Daddy, but can I sleep with you? Just one more time? Please?)

 

“ _Solo un’altra volta_ ,” (Just this one more time) I smiled and she handed me the chosen book before getting under the covers.

 

When she finally fell asleep, I made my way to the kitchen knowing that I wouldn’t fall asleep straight away and I didn’t want to disturb her. I stopped on my tracks when I spotted Oliver at the kitchen table, reading a book, his hand around a cup of tea.

 

“How very British of you, _l’Americano_ …”

 

Startled, he looked up at me and smiled. “It’s not five o’clock though… Can’t sleep?”

 

I shook my head and opened the fridge to fix myself a glass of milk.

 

“Gio is adorable, Elio. Congrats.”

 

“You don’t have to congratulate me…”

 

“Her education and impeccable manners combined with her lively self is a product of your work… Believe me, I know it’s not always easy.” Scratching the back of my head, I sat down opposite him. I knew we’d have to talk eventually, might as well be now. At least it would take my mind off of the funeral… He had questions, I had questions too. We wanted answers. “I…” he started but stopped with a sigh. I gave him what I hoped was an encouraging look and he continued. “I can’t help but feel curious about how you ended up a single parent. I always respected your parents not wanting to talk about it behind your back. I didn’t want to know anything about it unless it came from your own mouth, anyway.”

 

I knew that question would come. It was a fair question though.

 

“Her mother was a colleague of mine… at university. One night at a party we were drunk and… Well, it happened. I know what you’re thinking; protection these days is not only about babies… But it was the only time it happened and I got tested afterwards to make sure I was still clean. Anyway, she didn’t want a child, she wanted to do an abortion but I couldn’t stand the thought of it. Can I cut a long story short? At least for the time being?” He nodded with a smile. “I asked my parents for support and of course they agreed with me and agreed to help me at least in the beginning. A child is a blessing, they said. So I told her I would keep the baby, we sorted everything legally speaking and as soon as she gave birth she was out of the picture.”

 

“No second thoughts?”

 

“Apparently none. I thought she would regret it after a few days, but no. She contacted me once, a month or so after she vanished asking if I was all right, but that was it. She has no contact with Gio whatsoever. What about your kids? I hope the divorce is not too heavy on them…” I gulped, just saying it out loud made it that much more real.

 

“It’s always tough. For us too, of course, but especially for them. They are the reason I stayed in that marriage for so long. But I couldn’t take it anymore. I was so unhappy that I wasn’t being the father they deserved. Marian too… Something had to change.”

 

“You have shared custody?”

 

“We’re still going through it legally, but we agreed to do this as amicably as possible so that’s the goal, yeah.”

 

“Sounds better than many other divorces I’ve heard about.” Only then I realised what I was implying. “I didn’t mean-“

 

“I know,” he chuckled. “My youngest blames me though. That’s the worst part. I don’t know how to win his trust again. He’s only seven…”

 

“You’ll find a way, I’m sure.”

 

He looked at me, then, I mean, really _looked_ at me and I couldn’t breathe properly. “When you called… It felt like salvation. Like… Like I was stranded on a desert island and suddenly I saw a boat on the horizon.”

 

“Oliver…” I started shaking my head.

 

“I know, I know. You called to tell me that your father had passed and that was like a punch in the stomach. But I knew I had to come. For him and for your mother, but especially for you.” My eyes watered up again and I instantly buried my face in my hands. “I needed to make sure you were holding up. And there was also a little selfishness on my part because I wanted to grab this opportunity to say that I’m sorry.”

 

I lifted my face again to look at him, tears be damned, and took a deep breath. “You’re sorry?”

 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t stand up for us. I’m sorry that I didn’t fight for what we had… I’ve said this a million times, but I thought I acted in your best interest, I thought I was doing you a favour, I mean you had your whole life ahead of you… But that wasn’t the real reason why I _abandoned_ you. I was afraid. I was afraid of the fight I knew I would have to endure if we decided to stay together. Damn, it does feel good to finally say it out loud!”

 

I smiled and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. So much for not being able to cry…

 

“Your decision lead to the existence of three children. Nowadays when I look back I despise any road that wouldn’t lead to having my daughter in my life so… I think in the end it paid in our favour. Even though my heart never truly healed. It also feels good to say this out loud.” I chuckled through my soft sobs. “I’m a mess…” I sighed reaching out for a napkin to wipe my eyes and then my nose.

 

“You’re beautiful… Just as I thought you’d still be…”

 

“Oh, please!”

 

“It’s true!”

 

“Does your ex-wife know about me? Do your sons?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

 

“My wife knows. At the beginning she was disgusted that I didn’t tell her before marrying her. I told her just after our second visit here. That’s when things really started going downhill. She’s always known I had met someone special in Italy, but she assumed it was a woman. The fact that you’re very masculine made her stomach flip. Literally, she vomited in front of me.”

 

“What?! That’s disgusting!”

 

“I still wonder how we managed to stay together for three years after that… We were zombies. Anyway with time she accepted it but we barely touched each other. At least she believes in me as a father and we’re civil today.” I nodded. “My sons have no idea though… Does Gio know about you?”

 

“Yes, but to her it’s only natural. It’s the reality she knows. I was in a relationship with a man that lasted two years – the longest I’ve ever had – it ended a few months ago so she’s aware.” I yawned unexpectedly. “Sorry… I’m just so tired.”

 

“You should sleep… Me too, I don’t know how I didn’t pass out yet.” We both got up and looked at each other.

 

“I’m glad you’re here. I thought you should know that.”

 

He nodded with a smile that exuded sincerity and so we made our way to our designated bedrooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not hesitate to tell me what you think, if you'd like to :)


	4. I'm only asking but I, I think you know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's been reading and thank you amoamasamat for taking the time to beta :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter and do not hesitate to tell me what you're think, if you'd like to, of course!

The two days that followed were bittersweet to say the least.

 

Having Oliver at the villa again was overwhelming. On the other hand, not having my father was heart wrenching. Gio had had a bit of a breakdown that morning right after waking up. She suddenly realised that having _Nonno_ as a star was not the best thing after all and she was starting to miss him. She wasn’t used to be with him everyday since for the past two years my parents spent most of their time in the villa instead of Milan. But going into his studio and find him absent, going to the breakfast table to find his seat empty and not being able to snuggle up to him on that particular couch finally took the best of her.

 

I simply let her cry against my chest, shedding a few tears of my own, because as my mother said, it’s not supposed to be _easy_.

 

Seeing Oliver at the breakfast table lit her up a little bit though. Seeing her puffy red eyes he looked at me questioningly and I just shrugged mouthing that she was all right.

 

“Oliver will you let me play with your hair today?” She asked innocently as she climbed onto his lap. Even my mother, despite her obvious melancholia, couldn’t help chuckling at that. “I promise it won’t hurt, I’m always careful, right _Papà_?”

 

“That you are,” I replied helping myself with a cup of coffee. “But now you’re going to let Oliver have his breakfast in peace and you’ll sit here by my side to eat your own breakfast. Come on, we even have _croissants_ this morning.” She sighed dramatically but did as she was told.

 

“Are you boys planning on doing something today?” My mother asked.

 

“I don’t think so… It’s getting cold anyway.”

 

“Your aunt Teresa needs someone to take her to the train station. Can you do that?”

 

“Yes, what time?”

 

“The train leaves at twelve-thirty.”

 

“Can I go too?” Gio asked, looking at me expectantly.

 

“Yes, you can.”

 

“Oliver, come with us!” Oliver looked at me, the question in his eyes, and sensing that his answer depended on me, Gio immediately turned her attention. “Please let Oliver come with us, _Papà_ …”

 

“If he wants to, I guess…”

 

With Marzia’s return to Milan, it was only the four of us at the villa, and Oliver got Gio’s almost constant attention…

 

On the way to the station, my aunt – a typical Italian – spoke the whole car journey. Luckily it only took us twenty minutes or else our ears would be bleeding.

 

“She’s tough…” I said as soon as I returned to the car after helping her with luggage.

 

“A woman that has a lot to say, indeed.”

 

“Can we go for _gelato_?” (Ice cream) My daughter asked. She was in much better spirits since her breakdown that morning.

 

“Just after lunch, darling, you know the rules…”

 

“But can we go eat it at the piazza?”

 

“We’ll see first if _Nonna_ has any plans, if she doesn’t then yes, we can.”

 

As I predicted, my mother not only didn’t have plans for us but also encouraged us to go. I tried to convince her to come with us but she said she had a friend coming over after lunch. At least she wouldn’t be alone. However, spending all that time with Oliver and Gio was starting to get too… enjoyable! And that was dangerous…

 

I also felt that Gio understood what was going on, in her very innocent way of course. She asked to taste our gelatos and liked Oliver’s the best. At some point he just swapped his with hers with a laugh and I could see that it made her like him even more. He shouldn’t have done that… She needed to know that she couldn’t always have it her way. Nevertheless, it was so adorable that I let it pass.

 

When we finally arrived home, Gio lay down on the couch and it didn’t take long for her to fall asleep.

 

“She was not okay this morning, was she?” Oliver asked.

 

I shook my head as I turned off the TV. “A bit of a breakdown…”

 

“It’s only natural, anyway. With Marzia gone and everything.”

 

“Well, she seems quite taken with you as well… it’s probably genetic,” I chuckled as I threw a thin cover over her. “I’m going outside for a smoke, will you join me?”

 

He nodded and followed me. It was a sunny day but the wind was chilly since it was already late afternoon so I put on a sweater on the way out. I lit two cigarettes and handed one to Oliver who thanked me.

 

“It’s so quiet…” He commented. “The last time I came here with the boys they had a tough time adapting to the slow rhythm of this place. I immediately thought I was doing something wrong because I always thought life is not meant to live in a rush.”

 

“They live in New York… It’s only natural that they feel strange in a place like this.”

 

“I think I’m doing a shit job as a father.”

 

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”

 

He sighed and leaned back against the handrail. “I must be doing something wrong when the thought of telling my kids anything that concerns you scares the hell out of me.”

 

I let that statement settle down before attempting to say something. After our talk at the kitchen, the night after the funeral, something shifted. We didn’t acknowledge it verbally, but his attitude since then made me start thinking that maybe that summer in 1983 was as present in his mind after all this time as it was in mine.

 

“Why would you tell them anything like that anyway?” I shrugged. “Even if you want to return here with them and I’m here, what difference would it make?”

 

“Elio… You’re too clever not to know why I’m still here. I could have left two days ago.”

 

“You said you wanted to make sure me and my mother were all right.”

 

“I don’t think my presence relates to that… I wish I could somehow diminish the anguish your father’s absence causes but that is simply not possible.” I gulped, looking at the floor for a moment. What was he trying to do? What was he trying to say?

 

“Then tell me, no games, why are you still here?” I looked at him in the eyes then, all my emotions bare for him to see.

 

“Because I feel like I’ve been living a parallel life for the last twelve years and I’ sick of that. At first I wasn’t sure about how I would feel when my eyes finally landed on you. I knew I would never be indifferent, I didn’t want to anyway, but part of me hoped that I’d only feel friendship or some kind of innocent companionship, I don’t know. But it was so much more… If you knew how much I had to control myself in order not to take you in my arms and take all your tears on my shoulder that day…”

 

“So, you felt protective… That’s all right.” I pressed further.

 

“That too. But I wanted to kiss you, have all of you against me, make love to you… I wanted all those things back, as if we’d never been apart.”

 

“You can’t say these things, Oliver…” I shook my head. “Don’t play with me.”

 

“I’m not playing here. Would you let me show _these things_ to you instead?” He then shook his head and looked down. “Oh what am I doing? I’m sorry… You’re still grieving and here I am, throwing myself at you like an old pervert. I’m sorry-“

 

In my defence, I could attempt to convince myself that I acted out of grief. Like Marzia said, I was looking for something to take my mind off of my father’s death. But I knew that it wasn’t the case. I didn’t let him finish his apology and crushed my lips into his own. My hands acted by their own will as they found their way to his hair.

 

Oliver took a while to register what was happening, but when he did he enveloped me in those strong arms and I knew I was done. The kiss transported me back to twelve years ago and suddenly it was as if we’d never been apart. His mouth was still as warm as before and his body heat still sent me into a haze.

 

When we broke apart he pressed his forehead down into mine and it was a matter of seconds before I kissed him again. It felt like being in a roller coaster – at first I was afraid but now that it started rolling I just wanted more and more… The tears already forming on my eyes were an expression of longing and overwhelming, contrary to all of those I shed the past few days.

 

Eventually, we needed to come up for air.

 

“What are we going to do?” I asked, wiping my tears against his shoulder. Three days ago I was gutted that I couldn’t cry, now it was the exact opposite.

 

“There’s no need to make any decisions right now, Elio. Let’s look at our options for the next few days, while I’m here. There’s no need to rush this time. I mean… if you want what I want, that is.” He said in my ear, his arms still wrapped strongly around me.

 

For the time being, those words would suffice. In them I found hope.

 

At dinner my mother kept glancing at us and I just knew she was aware of what went on this afternoon. Her intuition was spot on most of the time, and that day was no exception. I believe it made her happy… She knew I had never truly moved on.

 

“Gio, eat your vegetables, I see what you’re doing…” I glanced at my daughter who was trying to put everything green on the side of the plate.

 

“I don’t like broccoli!”

 

“What are you talking about? Everyone likes broccoli, it’s the best!” I replied cheerfully. “Ask your _Nonna_ how much I loved broccoli when I was your age.” I was joking of course… I hated it with passion. My mother just smiled and nodded anyway.

 

“What about you, Oliver?” She tried to gain an ally.

 

“How do you think I grew this much?”

 

She sighed, and stacked her lower lip out, looking at me pleadingly with those big green eyes.

 

“It’s not going to work this time, darling. Come on, they taste better while they’re warm.”

 

She made an annoyed face but she ate the broccoli as I asked her to and that was enough for me.

 

Later on, when it was time for her to go to bed she didn’t whine about wanting to sleep with me. Of course, a story was requested but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

“ _Papà, mi piace molto Oliver_.” (Dady I really like Oliver) She blurted out, when I finished the story. She took me by surprise, but I managed to keep a neutral face. Or so I thought. “ _Non mi è piaciuto molto Alfredo_ …” (I didn’t like Alfredo very much). That’s when she got me and I couldn’t control my facial expression. We adults have a stupid tendency to underestimate children. The fact that she was so naturally comparing Oliver and my ex spoke volumes.

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“I’m saying that I like Oliver!” She giggled and tried to tickle me. “Did _Nonno_ like him?”

 

“Yes… Very much so.”

 

“I knew it!”

 

“Now no more talking, it’s time to sleep.”

 

“Do you think he could come visit us in Milan?”

 

“You’re pushing your luck, Giovanna. Come on, close your eyes now. Do you want me to sing for you?”

 

“ _Si, per favore_!” (Yes, please!) She replied finally closing her eyes. 


	5. If you save your love, save it all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is almost a final chapter, the next one will be more of an epilogue.
> 
> As usual, big thanks to amoamasamat for taking the time to correct my mistakes!

When I left Gio’s room I went downstairs knowing Oliver would probably be at the kitchen table reading.

 

“You officially have a fan… My own daughter.”

 

Oliver looked up and smiled, signalling me to come closer. I did so, sitting not opposite him this time but on the chair next to him.

 

“Are you feeling better?” He put a hand on my leg and I immediately covered it with my own as I nodded.

 

“What are we going to do, Oliver?” I repeated my earlier question. “My life is in Milan, yours is in New York… The problem is not my job. I think I could teach music elsewhere, I wouldn’t mind changing if necessary. But you can’t leave your sons and I can’t leave my mother.”

 

“We’ll find a way.” I loved his confidence, but it was frustrating at the same time because I knew it could never be that simple.

 

“How?!”

 

“First of all, I need to deal with my divorce,” I closed my eyes and pulled away from him. “Elio… listen to me, ok?” Sighing, I looked at him but it was more out of tiredness than curiosity. “There’s no way around it and you know it. I also need to talk to my sons and I know it won’t be easy. But I want you too much not to fight for you this time.” I opened my mouth to speak but he pressed his fingers against my lips. “You’re right, I can’t just leave everything behind and move here, neither can you, but we can start by visits… You’ll come see me in New York with Gio, meet my boys, and we’ll go from there. We’ll find a way.”

 

It wasn’t really a plan. Or maybe it was but it sucked. However, that was all we had.

 

“It’s a terrible idea,” I chuckled. “I’m in.” I leaned forward to capture his lips and before I even noticed what I was doing, I straddled him and buried my hands in his hair. His own hands found my ass and he pressed me even closer to him. “Upstairs?” I panted against his lips.

 

“You sure?” I could only nod and kiss him again, even more fervently than before. Was I sure? Was he kidding me?

 

We made our way to my room – our room from twelve years ago – as silently as we could. When we got there, I closed the door behind me, locking it, and leaned my back against its wooden surface. Oliver stood there, studying me and when he smiled and nodded, I practically threw myself into his arms. I believe I was as clumsy as if I was seventeen again; I felt desperate and wanted it all at the same time.

 

He put his hands on both sides of my face and slowly broke the kiss.

 

“Calm down, Elio… I want to taste every inch of you.” I was so worked up that I barely registered his words. His hands slid down my body and I could feel them everywhere. It took me a moment to register the fact that he was actually undressing me. With trembling hands, I undressed him too until we both stood naked in front of each other. It was a contrast to our previous frenzied state, but we actually took our time to look at each other.

 

When he took me in his arms again I felt like I could explode at any moment. He laid me on the bed and then he was everywhere again. His hands, his mouth his _everything_ … I felt useless that I couldn’t be more active but I was too overwhelmed. We didn’t last long of course, I came almost instantly when he took me into his mouth and then I only had to touch him for a couple of minutes before his release was all over my chest.

 

It didn’t take long for us to recover though, and we were hard again in record time.

 

“Inside me, Oliver… Please. I can’t wait anymore…” I moaned as I let my hands run through my own hair in frustration.

 

It was only when he was finally filling me so deep that I actually became alive. I could feel every fibre of my body responding to him as if every molecule had been asleep and waiting for this moment.

 

Oliver looked into my eyes then, his hands on either side of my head, thumbs caressing my temples.

 

“Oliver...” He whispered against my lips, tears in his eyes.

 

“Elio” I smiled.

 

*

 

A soft knockon the door pulled me from my sleep “Papà?” More knocking. “ _Papà, perché hai chiuso la porta_?” (Why did you lock the door?)

 

Was that skin under my cheek?

 

Shit!

 

I practically jumped off the bed and that of course startled Oliver. “What is it?” He asked sleepily.

 

“Shhh!” I put my index finger against my lips, my eyes wide open in warning.

 

“Sorry darling, just a second!” I said.

 

Finally he understood what was going on and stumbled to get his boxers. “It’s not even morning!” He whispered.

 

“Go to the bathroom!” I whispered back. I scanned the room with my eyes to make sure there were no signs of Oliver and opened the door.

 

“What happened? Did you have a nightmare,” she nodded rubbing her eyes.

 

“I know you said I should sleep in my room, but can you stay with me until I fall asleep again?” She whined.

 

I immediately picked her up and kissed her temple. “ _Certamente, amore mio_.” (Of course, my love.)

 

This big house, with all its soft nocturne noises always scared her a little when she was alone. Don’t get me wrong, she loved being at the _villa_ , but she always preferred to spend the nights with me. Lately, I had been trying to change that.

 

She fell asleep in about five minutes though, so she wasn’t that scared or nervous anyway. When I returned to my bedroom, Oliver had his back against the headboard, a look of concern on his face.

 

“Sorry about that… Good thing I had the reflex of locking the door.” I sighed as I sat on the bed next to him.

 

“Maybe I should go to my room, don’t you think?”

 

“Your room, my room… It’s always been _a thing_ for us, hasn’t it?” He chuckled and nodded, scratching the back of his head. “But don’t worry… I just didn’t want to explain why we were naked, or for her to catch us in the middle of _it_. But it’s no big deal if she finds you here. She has it all figured out anyway.”

 

“She has?” His puzzled look was endearing to say the least. “Did you tell her?”

 

“No, but I guess she pays attention in her very innocent way. Children are intuitive, and because to her all of this is so natural she doesn’t even make a big deal out of it. She told me that she liked you more than my ex… Just like that, out of the blue.”

 

“Well, it seems like I scored a few points then,” he smiled pulling me closer. “Do you want to lock the door again? Just in case?”

 

How could I deny that?

 

I woke up just as the sun was rising and Oliver was still sleeping soundly by my side. I went to the bathroom and then checked on my mother and Gio. They were both sleeping so I made my way downstairs to my father’s studio. I felt so close to him whenever I was there…

 

“I wish you were here, Papà… I miss you so much,” I whispered into the air as I sat on his couch. I could almost feel the scent of his cigarette. “I need your advice so much right now… Shit, I’m going crazy, talking to myself.” I sighed. I knew it didn’t make sense, but I couldn’t stop talking. “What am I going to do when he goes back to New York? What if he doesn’t keep his promise? It’s the first time he’s promised me something though, so I have no reason to doubt him, right?” Getting up, I made my way to the window. The sky was filled with clouds that day… It looked more and more like autumn. “I’m almost thirty… I don’t want to go bankrupt.”

 

I stay there for what seems like ages, savouring the fact that everyone is still asleep. Later on, noises from the kitchen told me that Mafalda was already preparing breakfast but it was Gio’s voice that pulled me from my thoughts and, listening to the footsteps, I could tell that she was not alone.

 

“I think he’ll be at _Nonno_ ’s” she said.

 

“Let’s see!” Oliver… Did she wake him up? He must have been so embarrassed… I couldn’t help but grin, just imagining his face.

 

When they passed through the three should, I couldn’t help but notice Oliver’s severe case of bed hair but I didn’t even have time to appreciate it as I felt my arms full of my five-year-old bundle of joy.

 

“We were looking for you, _Papà_!”

 

“Congratulations, you found me!”

 

“I was going to wake you up for breakfast but then I only found Oliver,” at this he blushed. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I found that whole situation quite funny. This openness was so foreign to him but somehow I believed that once he experienced it, he wouldn’t want to go back into hiding who he is.

 

During breakfast, if my mother had any doubts about what was going on, they were erased. When I got up from the table, my mother called me back to ask if I could be home for dinner because we’d have some relatives. As I listened to her I put my hands on Oliver’s shoulders and rested my chin on the top of his head. He tensed at first, but then he remembered where he was and that he didn’t need to hide or pretend anymore. My mother smiled as she waited for my response, which was positive of course.

 

It was later that morning that I found her reading in our garden bench, with a wool comforter around her shoulders that I had the chance to talk to her in private.

 

“ _Ça va maman_?” I kissed her temple and sat by her side. She smiled at me and closed her book.

 

“ _Tu es content ce matin_ ,” (you’re happy this morning).

 

“You can say I’m less sad…” I sighed. “I was at his studio this morning…. Before everybody woke up. I needed so much his advice right now…”

 

“You knew him too well not to know what he would say today…” She had a point.

 

“Oliver wants us to be together. He reckons we should go slowly but he seems so determined this time that I chose to believe him.”

 

She caressed my face and put a strand of my hair behind my ear. “This time he knows what he’s losing if he doesn’t fight… And you’re an adult now. You have no reason not to believe him, _chérie_.”

 

“ _Mais j’ai peur_ …” (But I’m afraid)

 

“Fear only tells you that it’s worth fighting for... It’s _because_ you’re afraid that you know it’s worth fighting for.”

 

“I won’t leave you here alone, _Maman_ …”

 

“ _T’inquiètes pas pour moi, Elio_.” (Don’t worry about me.)

_“Mais bien-sûr que je m’inquiète, maman! On vient de perdre Papa, je n’irais jamais plus loin que Milan sans toi_!” (But of course I’m worried, Mom. We’ve just lost dad and I won’t go further than Milan without you!)

 

“Elio, listen to me. This opportunity has laid itself before you. It’s a _second_ opportunity, you know those are rare, right? I want you to grab it as tight as possible and never let go unless, for some reason that you can’t foresee now, it doesn’t bring you happiness.”

 

“We have an ocean between us…”

 

“I haven’t finished. You will both take your time and see how things go. I agree with Oliver that no rushed decisions should be taken because there are children involved. But if the time comes that the next step is you moving to America, I don’t want you to step back because of me.”

 

“Maman-“

 

“Elio! Don’t interrupt, I educated you better than that…” She scolded me, but her facial expression was as soft and warm as ever. “I have your aunts here, and I have my childhood friends. And I… I feel close to your father when I’m in this garden or within this house’s walls. If that time comes, I will be all right, and if further on, a time comes when I feel lonely, than we’ll think about it. But don’t put your head ahead of yourself all right? Savour this moment, seize _today_.” She grabbed my hand and kissed it. “I’ve waited so long to see you like this… I’ve worried so much that you would never find true love again and that you would become a ghost of yourself… ”

 

“ _Merci, Maman_ ,” I couldn’t help it but throw myself into her arms as if I was a little boy again. We stayed like that for a long moment; she occasionally kissed my head and told me how happy she was for me and how happy my father certainly was too.

 

All of the sudden we heard Gio squealing as she ran out of the house, Oliver following her making growling noises, probably in a game of monster and prey. I chuckled and my mother squeezed me tighter. They didn’t see us as Gio darted in another direction and then they were gone again.

 

“Well… I guess at least this makes things a little bit easier for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, do not hesitate to tell me what you thought about it, if you're so inclined :)


	6. Come on take me home, home again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay folks, last part :) I hope you enjoy.
> 
> As usual big thanks to amoamasamat for taking the time to correct my mistakes!

“Okay, I’m leaving!” I shout at the front door.

 

“ _Ciao Papà_!”

 

Feeling bold, I choose to go down by the stairs instead of taking the lift to the building’s parking lot.

 

It had been three years since I reencountered Oliver again and two since I moved to New York with Gio. The first couple of months had not been easy… As I expected they were easier for Gio than myself. Moving from my beloved Europe had its predicaments – the sudden change in landscape, the different life rhythm, the different way of life in general – but nothing would compare to how I’ve felt leaving my mother there.

 

It was very clear from the beginning that she wouldn’t have it any other way, and because I have a child of my own, I could understand her. Gio’s happiness would always come first to me, as I know my own happiness would always come first in my mother’s eyes and heart. Oliver Gio and I spent our summers and last Hanukkah at the villa but it wasn’t the same… I missed her dearly even though, after two years, I was already adapted to New York’s life and I could proudly say I didn’t regret coming here.

 

Anyway, I’m on my way to the airport to pick up my mother to spend two whole months with us. Hanukkah is only 20 days from now and I’m so happy that she will be here. It’s the first time she visits so Oliver is a little nervous… He obviously wants her to feel at home in our apartment as she always makes him feel at home at the villa. Her stay will be a complete surprise to Gio - she thinks I’m going to the airport to pick a fellow teacher.

 

Tomorrow, Oliver’s sons will stay with us, as well. After the divorce, Oliver and his ex-wife agreed to shared custody so the boys spend half of their time with us and the other half with their mother and now her recent boyfriend. The eldest one, Patrick is a joy. He reminds me of Oliver in so many ways with his curiosity about his surroundings and his gentle accepting manners and tolerance. Of course he didn’t welcome me straight away, after all, when we met, his parents’ divorce was still too fresh, but these days, at thirteen years old, we’re very close and Oliver jokes that whenever he wants to talk about difficult subjects he always seems to come to me. He and Gio became fast friends and he actually calls her “little sister” and is really protective of her, which warms my heart.

 

When it comes to Luke, the youngest, things are a tad more complicated. He hasn’t exactly accepted his father’s sexuality and of course he blames me, even though he doesn’t say it to my face. It’s weird for someone so young (a child!) to feel this way, but Oliver says he was always very close to his grandfather so that must be why he acts this way. It’s getting better, little by little but he’s still grumpy most of the time he’s with us… Especially during the first day: when they arrive to our apartment, Patrick is instantly glued to Gio while Luke always needs some time to warm up to the idea of being there.

 

He also used to be jealous of Gio, of how his father and older brother seemed to like her so much. But at least that particular feeling seems to have vanished with time.

 

The worst part in all this is Oliver’s deteriorating relationship with his parents. They mostly choose to ignore my existence… I think they already accepted the divorce, especially after Marian started dating another man, but accepting _me_ is a whole different prospect. They refuse to come to our place and they refuse to invite me to their home, which led to Oliver stopping his visits as well. I hate to be in the middle of all this, to be the cause of Oliver being even more stranded from his own parents but I’m starting to accept that the problem is not _me_ \- it’s _them_. I can only hope that they see what they’re missing before it’s too late.

 

When I spot my mother my heart beats faster and I barely breathe properly until I have her in my arms.

 

“ _Mon chèri_ … I’ve missed you so much!” She says kissing all over my face.

 

“ _Moi aussi, Maman_.” (Me too, Mom)

 

“You never change those boyish looks, do you?” she says fondly holding my face between her hands as she inspects it. “How’s Gio?”

 

“We stuck to the plan. She has no idea you’re here… She’s probably helping Oliver preparing dinner, I hope she doesn’t notice that he’s making a bit more than usual!”

 

I carry her bags as we make our way to the car. “The boys are not with you this week?”

 

“They’ll be there tomorrow, usually Oliver picks them up Saturday mornings.”

 

On the way home she brings me up to date with everything that is going on in Italy. Whenever I’m there, it always seems like not much goes on, but my mother certainly proves me wrong. She tells me everything about my aunts and my cousins and some plays and movies she’s watched, books she’s been reading... She seems happy and that is everything I need to know. I made her promise me that if she starts feeling alone and unhappy, she would tell me and we would find a solution.

 

When we arrive home, the aroma of grilled meat assaults us and I signal my mother to be silent.

 

“I’m home!” I announce.

 

“Papà, Oliver is grilling too much fo- _NONNA_!!”

Gio passes me by in a blur to get to her grandmother’s awaiting arms.

 

“You’re so big! It’s only been four months since I last saw you and I swear you’ve grown!” Gio just giggles and hugs my mother yet again. “Oliver!” She smiles, seeing Oliver standing by the kitchen door. “Come here…” They hug over Gio, since she refuses to let go and I actually manage to capture the beautiful image with my Polaroid.

 

“Come _Nonna_ , I’ll show you the house!” She grabs my mother’s hand and starts the tour, excitedly as always.

 

Oliver wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses the spot bellow my ear. “My goose is _so_ happy right now…” He says in a low voice. I turn around in his embrace and lean up to peck his lips.

 

“I truly am.”

 

*

 

“Boys, you remember Annella, I’m sure!”

 

“Of course,” Patrick says and hugs her briefly. As usual, Luke is more reserved but imitates his brother nonetheless.

 

“You were still little last time you visited…” My mother says leaning down to look straight into his blue eyes. “You were what, four, five?”

 

“Four, I think…”

 

“Your father told me you may visit again next summer, how would you like that?”

 

“Cool!” Gio and Patrick said at the same time.

 

“Okay, I guess…” Luke says more quietly, however, I notice that he’s smiling at my mother in a way I think he never truly smiles at anyone he barely knows. Annella Perlman certainly has a special way with people…

 

“Fantastic,” she replies, cupping his cheek and caressing it briefly with her thumb. Luke smiles wider and I silently thank my mother for having this unique way to capture children’s hearts.

 

When it’s almost lunchtime, she insists on cooking for everyone; Patrick’s eyes practically bulge out of his skull at the mention of _spaghetti carbonara_ but it is actually Luke who offers to help. My mother beams and grabs his hand leading him to the kitchen as Oliver smiles at me, appreciating his son’s new attitude.

 

Later that day, I’m in my music room going through some music sheets when I hear a knock at the door. “Elio? Can I come in?”

 

It’s Patrick. “Sure!”

 

“I’m not interrupting?” He asks peaking inside.

 

“You never interrupt, come in,” I smile, gesturing with my right hand as my left one holds the sheets I was reading.

 

“I just…” He starts and scratches his forehead; I’m not sure if he’s in deep concentration or if he’s embarrassed by whatever he means to say.

 

“Hey, come here, sit down. What’s troubling you?”

 

He sits by my side and shakes his head. “Nothing’s troubling me but I’m not sure if you’ll be upset about what I’m about to ask…”

 

“I won’t. You can ask me anything,” I reassure him, even though I’m really curious now.

 

“Well, Gio’s birthday is next week, right? She’s so happy now that Mrs. Perlman is here-“

 

“You know you can call her Annella, right?”

 

He chuckles at that. “Right… I’ll try. Anyway, she talks a lot about your dad.” I open my eyes wider. The bond these too share seems to be stronger than I thought, actually. “Yes, she tells me a lot of stories… I think that, it is a way she found to keep memories, she talks about him a lot so she will never forget him, I guess.” Keeping him alive through memories… I’ve raised a smart girl. “I remember him, you know? He was great and I remember that he treated us as family making me feel like I’d known him all my life.”

 

 _Please don’t cry in front of your stepson, Elio_.

 

“So… I thought that, for her birthday I’d give her something to remind her of him and I wondered if you have some pictures that I could put together to make a frame.”

 

I’m speechless.

 

“Elio? What do you think?”

 

“I-I’m sorry, you caught me by surprise! It’s a wonderful idea, Patrick. It’s very kind of you to think of something like that. She’ll love it. And don’t think for one second that I would ever be upset about something like this.”

 

“So you’ll help me?”

 

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Of course I will!”

 

“Thank you, Elio.” Taking me completely by surprise, he hugs me. It’s quick and shy but it means a lot to me. I rub his hair as he gets up and darts outside, saying “later!” as he reaches the door. The whole situation paralyses me in the most delightful way. A moment later, Oliver comes in, finding me in the exact same position his son left me.

 

“You have that dreamy look on your face…” He says, sitting down by my side. “Care to share?”

 

“It’s private,” I say, with a smirk taking us back to a very different time and place.

 

“Oh… so I guess I’ll go hang out with your mum!”

 

We both laugh at our own silliness and marvel at the way that summer is still so imprinted in our memories…

 

“I’m just happy, is all…” I sigh.

 

“And that my love, my Oliver, is worth more than the world itself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a pleasure to share this with you :)


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